


everyone thinks peter is tony's kid

by killerqueenwrites



Series: i will always hold you close (irondad bingo) [12]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Humor, Misunderstandings, No Bashing, Protective Tony Stark, Red Herrings, Team as Family, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump, i'm tired of the discourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: Steve sees it the day after he returns to the Compound, his half of the team in tow. Natasha meets the kid when she invites herself to Tony's floor.or five times the avengers think peter is tony's kid, and the one time they find out he's spider-man
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: i will always hold you close (irondad bingo) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016994
Comments: 14
Kudos: 797
Collections: The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics, The Best of the Best MCU Fics





	everyone thinks peter is tony's kid

**Author's Note:**

> if you're subscribed to me, sorry for the spam you're getting. i'm reuploading my irondad bingo one-shots as individual stories to make it easier for people to find them and so they can be stories in their own right. [ they were originally posted here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019488/chapters/45168637)

_i. steve  
_  
Steve sees it the day after he returns to the Compound, his half of the team in tow. Well, not half. Far more than half. In the end, the only ones who’d stayed had been Rhodes, Vision and that Spider-kid, and Vision had been with Wanda half the time.  
  
He knows Tony is the reason they’re allowed back in the country again, that Clint and Scott can go home, never mind the free rein they still have of the Compound. After everything, he went above and beyond to let them come back.  
  
So he steels himself and asks FRIDAY to take him up to Tony’s floor, half-surprised that he’s allowed access at all, and spends the elevator ride trying to squash the queasy feeling of nerves.  
  
The elevator opens onto the open-plan common area, just like he remembers, and instantly the sound of laughter fills his ears. Two people are hovering by the stove, bickering playfully.  
  
“No, the onions go in first – _how_ are you still alive?”  
  
“Yeah, you just wait until you’re in your dorm living off ramen and caffeine – you won’t be such a culinary master then—“  
  
_“Boss, Captain Rogers is here.”  
_  
The change in atmosphere is instant. Tony – taller than the other person, but not by much – whips around, putting himself between Steve and the kid.  
  
Because it is a kid. He can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen, frozen in shock, mouth hanging open, peering over Tony’s shoulder with wide brown eyes. Steve knows those eyes.  
  
“How’d you get in here?” Tony spits, his arms flung out to the side like he’s protecting the kid from something. “Who let you up?”  
  
“I – FRIDAY did–“  
  
“Get out.”  
  
Steve flinches at the venom in Tony’s voice, tries to remind himself to swallow his pride. He has no right to be hurt about the fact that Tony’s still hurt. “I just wanted to say thank you – for getting us pardoned, and–“  
  
“I said _get out_!” There’s fear in Tony’s face, fear of Steve, but not for himself, and the pieces start to come together: the protective stance, the identical eyes, the fact Tony is willingly spending time with a kid at all.  
  
“Sorry.” Steve backs towards the elevator, holding his hands up. “I just came to say thank you, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you or your son.” It’s reasonable, a perfectly reasonable reaction. He’d hurt Tony; Tony has every reason to be frightened for his kid. “Just – good to see you, Tony.”  
  
The elevator doors close with a whoosh and FRIDAY says blandly, _“Boss has just informed me that your access to his floor has been revoked.”  
_  
“That seems like something he would have thought of ahead of time.”  
  
FRIDAY doesn’t answer.  
  
“It’s not like Tony to forget something like that.”  
  
_“My primary protocol is the wellbeing of Boss,”_ she says, and leaves it at that.  
  


* * *

  
_ii. natasha  
_  
“You shouldn’t be up here.”  
  
It’s not Tony’s voice, or FRIDAY’s, or even Pepper’s, which tells Natasha she’s found exactly what she was looking for.  
  
“No,” she agrees, zeroing in on the speaker. There, sitting at the table, textbooks strewn in front of him, is the kid. Tony’s kid, if Steve is to be believed. “But that doesn’t often stop me.”  
  
His mouth twists, like he’s trying not to smile. “Mr Stark got really mad when Captain Rogers showed up. Like, _really_ mad. He pretty much lost his shit.”  
  
_Mr Stark_. Polite, not familiar. AP Calculus. Midtown Tech. Smart kid. Messy brown hair. Brown eyes. Easily Tony’s. Natasha smiles back. “I heard.”  
  
“Well, I think you being here – all of you – is kinda stressing him out? So if you could maybe…not?”  
  
Queens accent. She’s heard one of those recently. “Not what?”  
  
“I don’t know, just…give him some time. It’s a lot for him, I think.”  
  
Natasha tilts her head, pretending to read his textbook page like she hadn’t skimmed the whole thing upside down already. “Calculus, huh? How’s that going?”  
  
“It’s fine,” the kid says, just a touch wary. His eyes follow her as she moves around the table, and she realises he’s been sizing her up this whole time, just as much as she has him. He doesn’t seem overly frightened, though, so he’s likely decided she’s not a danger.  
  
Definitely smart, but quietly so. He’s keeping his cards close to the chest. Hiding something. Maybe Steve was right in his assumption.  
  
“Do you need any help?” she offers.  
  
“Uh, no.” A pause. “But if you speak Spanish…”  
  
“Fluently.”  
  
He glances up. “Really–? Right. Yeah. You’re a spy.”  
  
“You don’t seem very concerned about that.”  
  
“Because I don’t think you are. Right now.”  
  
“Hm,” she says, trying not to smile. She likes this kid.  
  
“Romanoff.” Tony’s voice is knife-sharp, cracking across the room like a whip. He strides towards them, shoulders tensed. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Just introducing myself to my new neighbour. You guys are awful quiet. Keep to yourselves up here.”  
  
“And you didn’t even bring a casserole. I’ll remember that the next time you need a cup of sugar.” Tony stops, not quite putting himself between her and the kid, but looking ready to at any minute. “Rogers put you up to this.”  
  
“Can you blame us for being curious? Rhodey’s impenetrable. FRIDAY talks in circles better than an oracle. This is like our own little urban legend.”  
  
“Congratulations, you’ve discovered I have an intern. A problem easily solved by either talking to Pepper or hacking into the company database, both of which you’re fully capable of.”  
  
He’s hiding something, too, better than the kid, but still obvious. They must be related. And, of course, the kid is Spider-Man. That amount of self-sacrificial, foolhardy recklessness could only be genetic.  
  
Which just begs even more questions. Did Tony go looking for his son or Spider-Man? Was he expecting both, or one, or neither?  
  
“We’ll do that Spanish another time, Baby Stark,” Natasha says, turning back towards the elevator. She deliberates, then tosses over her shoulder, “Until next time, little spider.”  
  
The last thing she hears before the doors slide closed is the kid’s alarmed squeak.  
  


* * *

  
_iii. wanda  
_  
Wanda is more than a little pleased to discover that her favourite reading spot is exactly as she left it. Ecstatic might be a better word.  
  
It’s a little window ledge too high up for any normal person to reach, not too far from the main entrance, but still quite peaceful. When she’d first moved in, she could spend hours there undisturbed, and now the Compound seems even emptier than it did then.  
  
She’s curled up, a copy of _Peter Pan_ in her hands, a cup of tea floating beside her, when she hears voices.  
  
“So I think that Finn should definitely be Force-sensitive – like, how can he not be? It doesn’t make sense. And now it looks like they’re trying to give Ren a redemption arc when he doesn’t have a tenth of the character development Anakin did–“  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“Just bad decisions all around, Mr Stark. These characters deserve better.”  
  
Stark comes into view, a kid trotting at his side. The kid, apparently. His kid.  
  
“Whoa!” The kid breaks away and moves towards Wanda’s perch. “That’s so cool! Did you, like, levitate yourself up there?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Awesome.” His eyes are shining with curiosity, words spilling out at light speed. There’s no way he isn’t Stark’s. “Oh, _Peter Pan_? I love that. Have you seen the films? The live-action one is so underrated–“  
  
“Pete,” Stark says. “Pizza’s waiting.”  
  
Pete. Like Pietro. “It was my brother’s favourite,” she tells him on a whim.  
  
“Oh,” Pete says softly, and smiles. “Nice to meet you.”  
  
Wanda smiles back, meets Stark’s eyes over his head. She nods.  
  
“Maximoff,” he says. Guarded, but a greeting nonetheless.  
  
It’s only a few minutes before she sees them making their way back to the elevator, laden down with pizza boxes, the kid still chattering. Wanda wonders if there are more people on Stark’s floor than they realise, or if they intend to make the pizza last for a week. It’s too much for two people.  
  
She’s promised never to push into people’s minds again, but she’d have to be an idiot not to notice the fondness rolling off Stark, the paternal love. Steve was right; there’s a little Stark around.  
  


* * *

  
_iv. vision  
_  
To be perfectly honest, Vision is not quite sure what precisely is required of him. Wanda had requested this, and it does make pragmatic sense, given that Tony Stark still trusts him. He has to investigate a child, it seems. A child with Stark parentage.  
  
FRIDAY, who he usually has no problem conversing with, had evaded any questions, so he takes it upon himself to phase through the floor of Mr Stark and Miss Potts’ quarters.  
  
“–really good job, kid. Seriously. You kept your cool, stuck to the plan. I’m so fucking proud of you.”  
  
“Thanks, Dad.”  
  
Two figures stop abruptly as soon as they notice Vision’s presence. He immediately identifies them as Mr Stark and a teenager approximately fifteen years old – who matches with a result in the Stark employee database as Peter Parker.  
  
“My apologies,” Vision says amiably. Humans like warnings, he’s learned. If not, an apology will suffice. “I did not mean to intrude.”  
  
“Not a problem,” Mr Stark says, just a touch awkward. “You need something, buddy?”  
  
A cover story. Luckily, he had devised one with Miss Romanoff earlier. “I have had something of Wanda’s in my room for some time. I would like to return it to her.”  
  
“Well, don’t let us keep you.” Mr Stark puts his arm around the child’s shoulders, guiding him away. “Carry on.”  
  
Vision watches as they walk out of sight, leaning against each other.  
  
“Do you think he heard?” Peter hisses.  
  
Ah, yes. He had, and he has all the information he needs to draw his conclusion. Just one word.  
  
_Dad_. ‘One’s father’. ‘A male parent.’ ‘Often used as a name.’ Yes, Captain Rogers had been correct in his assumption. Mr Stark has a son.  
  
Vision, having seen and heard all he needed, sinks back through the floor.  
  


* * *

  
_v. sam  
_  
Sam isn’t especially thrilled that it’s his job to pass this message on, but whatever. It’s not like phones exist, or group texts, or an all-powerful AI that runs this whole goddamn place.  
  
But no, here he is, hitching a ride in the elevator with Rhodey, who seems to have perfected the ability to give someone a sideways look without looking at them at all.  
  
“So…” Sam says awkwardly. “You been busy…lately?”  
  
“Uh, kinda,” Rhodey says. “Got this whole mess to clean up. Something called the Accords. Heard of them?”  
  
That’s fair, Sam decides, and lapses back into silence.  
  
Rhodey grins. “I’m kidding. Mostly. As far as I’m concerned, it’s done. Just – whatever you’re about to drag Tony into, don’t expect it to end well.”  
  
Okay, so he’s psychic. “It was Cap’s idea.”  
  
“Yeah, that tracks.”  
  
The elevator doors open onto Tony’s open-plan floor, everything pristine but for a textbook here, a pair of trainers there. Interesting. The kid might be around.  
  
“Rhodey!” Tony calls cheerfully from the kitchen area. “Not-Rhodey.”  
  
“He comes bearing an invitation.”  
  
“Oh, God.” It’s said mostly with humour, but there’s a hint of trepidation in Tony’s eyes as he waits for Sam to speak.  
  
“Team meal, tomorrow? Avengers floor.” It’s a gamble. They haven’t sat down to eat together since well before the whole mess. “It’s gonna be a late lunch. Early dinner, maybe. Just to…get everyone talking again.” Sam scrambles desperately for something else to say. “And your kid’s welcome to join. We’d like to meet him properly.”  
  
Tony makes a humming noise, eyes narrowed in thought. “Not his scene, probably.”  
  
“Maybe when it’s a little more comfortable,” Rhodey suggests.  
  
Yeah, Sam agrees it’s going to be excruciating.  
  
“Right,” Tony says, “and he can’t tomorrow, anyway. School, then his extracurricular.”  
  
“Busy kid.”  
  
_“Boss, Baby Boss is on his way up.”  
_  
“Awesome. Tell His Majesty the food’s been ordered.”  
  
_“I will relay that verbatim.”  
_  
“You do that.”  
  
“Tony,” Sam says earnestly, “I promise we won’t even look wrong at the kid. Just – if he’s gonna be around all the time, we’d like to at least know him a little.”  
  
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Tony says, “and maybe next time he’ll be free. He really does have after-school stuff going on.”  
  
“Hey!” The elevator opens and a teenage-shaped blur with a vaguely familiar voice shoots out. “Please tell me it’s pizza you’ve ordered. I need carbs. And the comforting scent of garlic. Oh, hey, Rhodey.”  
  
“‘Sup, kid,” Rhodey says, like this is normal yet still highly amusing. “Sam’s here, too.”  
  
Sam waves. “Y’know, Falcon.”  
  
The kid looks entirely unimpressed. “Yeah, hi. Everything okay?”  
  
“Just giving them the heads-up about a team lunch tomorrow,” Sam says. “I did mention you were invited, but apparently you have–“  
  
“Extracurriculars,” the kid agrees.  
  
Why are they saying it like it’s some sort of code? “So, what d’you do?”  
  
“Uh, Robotics. And Academic Decathlon.”  
  
“Oh, so you’re a smart one. Got your dad’s brains.”  
  
The kid – Peter, Sam thinks his name is – flushes bright pink. “Y-yeah. Guess I did.”  
  
“All right, well, I’m gonna…” Sam takes a step towards the elevator. “Nice to meet you, kid. Uh, hopefully see you two tomorrow.”  
  
“Yeah, great, thanks,” Tony calls absently, all his attention already on the kid. “Hey, how was your Trig quiz? Anything tricky?”  
  
“Nah, it was fine.”  
  
“Should I have said ‘triggy’?”  
  
“No, you should not have, and I will disown you if you try.”  
  
“Who’s disowning who?” Tony says with a grin. “Were you going to leave me your extensive collection of Legos? Your progress in Animal Crossing? Perhaps your gross smelly hoodies, half of which, I might add, you’ve stolen from me.”  
  
Peter scoffs, but he’s smiling as he ducks his head. The last thing Sam sees is Tony holding out his arm and Peter burrowing is into his side. The elevator doors shut.  
  
_Dammit_. Steve was right.  
  


* * *

  
_\+ i  
_  
The first team lunch is exactly as awkward as Steve expected. Loaded silences. Deliberately avoiding eye contact. Vision sitting motionless as everyone else eats.  
  
Wanda looks over at Tony, almost timid. “Could I maybe order some food? I’m out of my favourite tea.”  
  
“Sure,” Tony says. “I’ll start the weekly grocery deliveries for you lot again. Just tell FRIDAY what you want.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Silence.  
  
_“Boss,”_ FRIDAY says, _“ongoing incident in Midtown.”  
_  
“Midtown?” Tony repeats sharply. He’s already halfway out of his chair. “Where–? Shit. Where exactly?”  
  
_“Two blocks from Midtown High.”  
_  
“Shit, okay.”  
  
Rhodey’s moving too, with an urgency he usually never displays. He follows Tony out of the room without a word.  
  
_“I would suggest meeting at the Quinjet,”_ FRIDAY says, a slight hint of humour in her voice.  
  
“Situation?” Sam says.  
  
_“Unidentified creatures attacking Midtown. They appear to be able to throw spines from their tails, as well as using them as a blunt weapon.”  
_  
“Fun,” Natasha mutters as they make their way to the elevator. “Should we wait for the two Iron Idiots?”  
  
_“Boss left in his suit approximately twelve seconds ago, as soon as he learned that Spider-Man was on the scene. Colonel Rhodes followed him.”  
_  
“So,” Sam says, “that’s a no.” And then a few seconds later, “Damn, I hate that Spider-guy. What a little shit.”  
  


* * *

  
“Connect comms,” Steve orders when they’re about thirty seconds out, and his earpiece beeps three times. Huh. Three links already active.  
  
_“Oh, hey!”_ a voice calls. Too young to be Tony or Rhodey. Too young to be involved with this, full stop. _“Nice of you guys to show up! Took your time.”_  
  
Steve meets Sam’s eyes just in time to see him mouth, ‘Little shit’.  
  
_“Kid,”_ Tony sighs, like this is a frustrating but frequent occurrence. _“Head in the game. Come on.”  
_  
_“Yessir.”  
_  
“Give us a sit rep,” Natasha says, pulling the jet into a steady landing.  
  
_“Dunno where they came from,”_ the same voice replies. Spider-Man, presumably. _“They look kinda like dinosaurs, but – whoa! Yeah, they’re fast.”  
_  
_“Dinosaurs?”_ Tony says with a laugh. _“You’ll fit right in, Rogers.”_  
  
“Very funny,” Steve grumbles, but a large part of him is glad they’re teasing each other. It feels normal. “Just landed, we’re on our way.”  
  
_“Copy that,”_ Rhodey says, _“and watch out for the tails. They’re flinging barbs like a pissed-off porcupine.”  
_  
“Clint’s missing out,” Natasha says, and they march down the ramp and into battle.  
  


* * *

  
Spider-Man is quite possibly the chattiest person Steve’s ever worked with. He just doesn’t shut up. Aside from a few helpful calls, like pointing out a group that’s breaking off towards Upper Manhattan or telling Natasha to watch her six, it’s a constant stream of chatter and commentary and insults.  
  
_“Wow, you’re an ugly one! Yeah, you – oh, don’t charge at me! We’re having so much fun!”  
_  
“Still hasn’t learned to shut up, huh?” Sam says.  
  
_“If there was a ghost of a chance, Wilson, don’t you think I’d have found it?”_ Tony sighs. _“Kid, there’s a group of them on your tail. Watch it.”_  
  
_“Copy that, Mr Stark.”  
_  
More fighting. The creatures seem to be diminishing in number, but Steve can’t tell where they came from, where they’re going. He just throws his shield, throws punches, fights back to back with Natasha. The comms are silent.  
  
The comms are silent. How long has it been quiet?  
  
“You good, Queens?” he calls. No answer. “Tony, how’s the kid doing?”  
  
_“Tony?”_ Rhodey says, his voice a little strained. _“Tony, on comms. On comms.”_  
  
Nothing.  
  
“You got this?” Steve asks. Natasha gives him a look that could be offended, could just be exhausted.  
  
“Go. They’re nearly beat.”  
  
He nods and takes off, sprinting towards where he last saw Spider-Man, where he last heard Tony’s repulsors. It’s a short run, only a block, and he finds himself climbing the fire escape of a low-rise, hoping to at least get a better vantage point.  
  
But there are two figures on the roof, both red, one leaning over the other, cradling their head.  
  
Steve moves closer, and the, “Oh, God,” spills out without permission. It’s bad.  
  
Blood is pooling beneath Spider-Man, darkening the vibrant red of his suit. Spines, sticking out of his shoulder, his side, his leg. His breaths are short and choppy, interspersed with pained whimpers. But worse than that: his mask is off, cast to the side, so Steve can see his face. He knows that face.  
  
“I found Tony,” he manages. “Spider-Man’s down. It’s bad. We need to get him to a hospital.”  
  
_“Dammit,”_ Rhodey hisses. _“Where are you?”_  
  
“I…”  
  
_“_ Location _, Rogers, now.”  
_  
“Rhodes, he’s a kid.”  
  
_“Okay, I’m tracking you. Try and keep them both calm. Watch their backs. I’m nearly there.”  
_  
Steve moves towards them, legs numb, steps clumsy. The kid’s eyes follow him over Tony’s shoulder, wide and scared. Peter. Peter is Spider-Man. Tony’s Peter.  
  
“It’s okay,” Tony’s murmuring, “you’re gonna be fine. Keep looking at me, kid, that’s it. Help’s coming. I got you.”  
  
Sam appears, out of breath, then Wanda, who claps a hand over her mouth. Rhodey lands and jogs to Tony’s side, feels at Peter’s wrist for his pulse.  
  
“Romanoff’s gone to get the jet,” Sam says. He looks horrified. “Jesus Christ, that’s not–“  
  
“Yeah,” Steve whispers.  
  
Wanda drifts forward, kneels by Peter’s head. None of them seem to notice her.  
  
“Peter,” Tony says sharply, “look at me. You feel me squeezing your hand? Stay with me.”  
  
“Let me try something,” Wanda says, red threads already twisting around her fingers.  
  
“Don’t come near him with that–“  
  
“Tony,” Rhodey says, “let her help.”  
  
Tony nods stiffly, and Wanda places her hands against Peter’s temples. The kid sighs, his tense body relaxing, eyes fluttering shut.  
  
“He’s in a lot of pain,” Wanda says. “How far is the jet?”  
  
_“Right here,”_ Natasha says. _“Can you carry him up, or do you need a stretcher?”_  
  
“Better not risk it,” Rhodey says, at the same as Wanda says, “I will be careful.”  
  
“Can you keep him steady?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Okay.” Rhodey puts his hand on Tony’s arm. “Let go for a minute, man. Just a minute.”  
  
Tony sits back, almost falls, releases Peter’s hand, and Wanda lifts Peter up and into the jet.  
  


* * *

  
The corridor is quiet. Tension sitting on their shoulders. Arms crossed, jaws taut.  
  
Sam breaks the silence. “What the _fuck_ was he thinking–?”  
  
“Sam,” Rhodey says sharply.  
  
“Come on, he’s a kid. Stark lets his kid swing around fighting crime in fucking spandex–“  
  
“If you think I haven’t told him all that and more, you’re wrong, okay? He knows. But you try telling that kid to stop.”  
  
“He’s fifteen,” Steve says. “How could Tony let him do that?”  
  
“There’s no ‘let’ with Peter,” Rhodey insists. “You help him, or he’s doing it behind your back.”  
  
“That’s his _child_.”  
  
Rhodey opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but closes it again. Natasha purses her lips, and Steve realises she’s the only one who doesn’t look surprised.  
  
“Did you know?”  
  
“Who do you think I am?” she says quietly. “I recognised his voice.”  
  
“Right. Of course,” Sam mutters.  
  
A door opens and Tony steps out into the corridor, stress lines carved into his forehead. Everyone stares, waiting for him to speak. “Kid’s gonna be fine. Nothing vital got hit.”  
  
“He’s gonna be fine _this time_ ,” Sam says pointedly.  
  
“Sam–“  
  
“Nothing vital got hit, my ass. Your _son_ got hit.”  
  
“I know,” Tony says, quiet, defeated, “I know.” He closes his eyes for a second. “I’m sure Rhodey’s told you what a stubborn shit he is. No Peter without Spider-Man, and all that.”  
  
“I don’t get it,” Steve says. “I’m not a parent, but if my kid was – doing anything like that, putting themselves in danger, I’d lock them in the basement.”  
  
“Yeah, uh, two things there.” Tony glances at Rhodey, as if checking for confirmation he’s doing the right thing. “One: you clearly have not met Peter. Two: he’s not my son.”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Three, actually: the basement here is not suitable for human habitation. Yet.”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Sam bursts out. “He’s your kid. Sorry, there’s – there’s no way he’s not.”  
  
“Not kidding. It was our…cover story.”  
  
Steve shakes his head in disbelief. “So you made everyone think he was your son?”  
  
“Made? No. Let? Yes. You…assumed. We played along.”  
  
“Vision heard him call you Dad,” Wanda says.  
  
“We knew he was listening. Well, Pete did. Super senses.”  
  
“Why?” Steve asks. “Why bother? Unless it was to mess with us.”  
  
“Fun though that would be,” Tony drawls, “no. I say this with great amounts of love and humour, but Peter is not the best liar. Terrible, actually. Keeping a secret? He’s practically a deep-storage vault. Where he falls down is hiding the fact that he has a secret. You follow?”  
  
“No,” Steve says just as everyone else says, “Yes.”  
  
“So you tried to redirect us,” Natasha says. “Smart.”  
  
“I knew you’d rumble him pretty quickly, figure out we were hiding something. The best thing to do was to red-herring the shit out of it. And…” Tony folds his arms. “I thought the less you really knew about him, the better. I thought he’d be safer.”  
  
Steve remembers the first time seeing them together, remembers the terror in Tony’s eyes, and accepts that with a nod. Reasonable.  
  
“But you played it well,” Natasha says. “Either both you and the kid are stellar fucking actors, or you really love him.”  
  
Tony stares her down, and Steve thinks of when he found them: he’s never seen Tony so frightened. “Well,” he says eventually, “I never went to drama school, that’s for sure.”  
  
“Thought not,” Natasha mutters.  
  
Tony nods, shuffles his feet. “I, uh, better get back in there. He’s gonna be on the good stuff when he wakes up. Tap-dancing elephants. The works.”  
  
“Give him our best,” Natasha says. “Tell him he did well.”  
  
“I’m not telling him you said that while he’s high on weapons-grade painkillers, are you kidding? He’ll shit.”  
  
Sam snorts. “Well, tell the little shit get well soon, or something. We’ll order him pizza when he wakes up.”  
  
Tony grins. “His favourite. Okay, Rhodey, can you debrief SHIELD or whoever’s asking? Fob off Ross. I’ll deal with him. Keep Pete out of it, as much as you can.”  
  
“You got it, man. I’ll come see the kid when he’s up.”  
  
Tony nods and accepts his friend’s clap on the shoulder with a smile. He turns and walks back into Peter’s room as Rhodey strides away, the only sound the whir of his braces.  
  
“Come _on_ ,” Sam says into the silence, “there’s no way they’re not related.”  
  
“They’re not,” Natasha says softly.  
  
“You sound damn sure about that.”  
  
“I usually am about things like this.”  
  
“I thought you only acted like you knew everything?” Steve says.  
  
Natasha makes the face she usually does when she’s trying not to smile, lips pursed, biting the inside of her cheek. “Screw you, Rogers. He’s in SHIELD files. His parents were agents before they died.”  
  
“The files that are free-range on the internet right now?” Sam says. “Those files? Does the kid know?”  
  
Natasha shrugs. “I can’t imagine Tony doesn’t.”  
  
“Would he have thought to look?” Wanda says.  
  
_“He has not,”_ FRIDAY cuts in. _“He initiated a protocol to alert him of any mention of Mr Parker in the news. This protocol did not exist in 2014.”_  
  
“Then we tell him,” Steve says, “and the kid. No more secrets.”  
  
Vision tilts his head. “And does Mr Stark know about your arrangement with King T’Challa?”  
  
_“He is aware.”_ FRIDAY sounds the slightest bit disapproving now. _“It came up while they were discussing the best way to reform the Accords.”  
_  
“Whatever you want to do, leave me out of it,” Wanda says. “There’s no way this can go well.”  
  
“The kid deserves to know the truth,” Natasha says, “especially because he’ll be under SHIELD scrutiny now he’s hanging around with Tony.”  
  
“So, just to clarify,” Sam says, “you wanna tell a fifteen-year-old kid that his dead parents were actually SHIELD agents?”  
  
“And that their deaths were suspected foul play? Yes.”  
  
“Oh, _super_. What could go wrong?”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr at [akillerqueenwrites](https://akillerqueenwrites.tumblr.com), or my main blog [akillerqueenyouare](https://akillerqueenyouare.tumblr.com). come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. i've also made a twitter, [@killerqueenao3](https://twitter.com/killerqueenao3) , if any of you want to talk to me there (it's mostly pictures of my dog). thank you for reading!


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